


so-called saviors

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aphrodisiacs, Fucking Machines, Gangbang, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-08-27 14:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8405170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He tries to force down the shame that creeps up. But he can’t. He’s on display for the entire universe. Everyone can see him now.
And isn’t that what he wanted? For everyone to know his name? To cheer for him?





	1. to use

**Author's Note:**

> for marcus, my #3 homeskillet
> 
> all characters depicted are above the age of 18. ik you're worried sendak might be too young, but trust me, he's well into his thirties.
> 
> also sendak doesnt have his big arm in most of this. he has an arm sort of like shiro's. but it's red. for casual occasions. like fucking lance.

“Of course, they will all end up broken, just like you.”

Shiro waits. He waits for Sendak to continue. But all he hears are footsteps.

He allows himself to crack an eye open, to see Sendak running his flesh hand along Lance’s stomach, tracing up the armor on his chest, to his neck, only stopping to grip Lance’s chin.

Shiro feels his entire body go rigid.

“What about this one, hm?” Sendak says, eyes meeting Shiro’s, smugness distorting his features. “So fragile.” His thumb glides along Lance’s bottom lip. “I wonder, could he survive the arena like you? Or would he be made into a bitch for me and my soldiers?”

Shiro clenches his eyes shut again, turning his head away.

Sendak hums, an almost pleased sound, and stands to return to the control panel. Shiro can hear his claws tapping against the panel, can hear the displeased sound he makes.

A hand on his jaw forces Shiro to look up. Sendak stares down at him, lets a claw dig into his bottom lip.

“I’ll have you yet, Champion.”

The last thing he sees is the pink light of Sendak’s arm crackle and swing. He’s unconscious before he hits the ground.

* * *

 

And just a moment too late, Pidge finds him.

Alone.

* * *

 

Lance wakes up slowly, eyelids heavy as they blink open, exposing darkness and pulsing purple light as his surroundings. He wants to sleep. So badly. But he knows he can’t. There’s something wrong, something off. This isn’t the castle.

He tries to move, but finds he can’t.

Realization creeps upon him slowly. His wrists and ankles and strapped down. He swallows, dread setting deep in his gut as he spares a glance down.

In the light, as dull as it is, he can see the vague outlines of restraints, metal cuffs keeping him down to what almost resembles an operating table. His armor and suit are gone, and the chill of the room suddenly hits him harder than it had before. Goosebumps prickle along his flesh, and he shivers, whimpering as he squeezes his eyes shut.

He’s not stupid. He knows he’s been captured. And it was his fault too, probably. Not that he can remember. His memories are muffled, more nonsense than anything.

He just hopes he’s not far away from Arus. From everyone. If he’s not far, they can find him. He won’t be alone for long. They’ll find him. And this will be over.

A muffled sound snaps him back to focus, and an opening in the wall appears. More purple light floods in, outlining two figures. One hunched and hooded, the other obviously a Galra, armor and fur covering it head to toe.

“It’s awake. Perfect.” A raspy voice pierces the silence, and the hooded figure waits by the doorway as the Galra steps inside. “Summon me when you’re done. My Druids are always happy to make any further modifications if you so wish.”

“That won’t be necessary.” The Galra says, not looking back as it waves a hand.

The figure leaves. The door slides back shut.

Lance blinks as the light in the room brightens, just enough to let him see who stands above him.

A glowing red eye stares back, and canines glint against the light. The Galra is grinning. Lance feels sick.

Lance wants to say something, but a clawed finger hooks into his mouth, pulling it open till his cheeks ache. The other hand, something resembling Shiro’s but burgundy, trails up his stomach with gentle touches, the metal claws just barely digging into his skin. They feel, push, almost like a doctor. They grip his hips, sliding down till they squeeze his ass.

“Pathetic. If I had known, you were nothing more than skin and bones I would have left you.” The Galra says, his finger pulling from Lance’s mouth to let his teeth clink shut.

“Who the fuck are you?” Lance spits out, trying to pull away from the touches that trail his stomach and chest. Sickness settles deep in his stomach.

The Galra chuckles, grin only widening. “Commander Sendak. I’d ask for your name, but unfortunately, Galra bitches don’t need one.”

Lance tries to fight off the nausea that washes over him.

“I’m not a Galra bitch.” He spits out, stomach concaving as he tries to arch away from the touches that trail down his stomach, down between his thighs, stroking the sensitive flesh there, higher, higher, so close- “I’m-“ He bites his lip, bruising it as he forces down a whimper as cold, metal claws stroke over a nipple, then pinch and tug. “-I’m a paladin of Voltron.”

“That you are.” Sendak says, eyes roaming lazily over Lance’s body. “But I do not see you in the Voltron armor. And I don’t see you in the cockpit of a Voltron lion. So as of now, you are no longer a paladin.” He leans down, his lips pressing to Lance’s ear. “All you are to anyone on this ship is a bitch to fuck and _to use_.”

Sendak stands straight, and two fingers find their way into Lance’s mouth with a command of, “Suck.”

Lance opts to bite, digging his teeth into the flesh. The taste of blood floods his mouth.

His head is wrenched back, a grip on his hair tight like a vice.

“I’d train you now. Treat you like an omega in heat till you were obedient. But there’s a show tomorrow, and we’re going to let you be an example for anyone who decides they can stand against Emperor Zarkon with no repercussions.”

The grip on his hair tightens, and all Lance can do is whimper, shutting his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at Sendak anymore.

“But for now…” Sendak releases his hair, pets it with gentle strokes. “I’ll let the Druids take care of you.”

Lance spits at him, watches as Sendak wipes it away, unfazed and uncaring.

He doesn’t expect the slap across the face. For a second, he’s still, eyes wide and cheek stinging. Before Sendak can say anything, Lance turns his head back.

With a grin, he says, “Harder.”


	2. Chapter 2

“10,000 years Zarkon has ruled the galaxy. And for not the first time, a resistance has begun to form.”

Lance watches Sendak with a sharp gaze, trying to hide the tremors that overtake his body. Millions of eyes are on him, just in this one arena. Who knows how many more on every planet, in every star system. Images of his form play out on the screens above. He looks so fragile and weak, restrained with barely anything to cover him.

He tries to force down the shame that creeps up. But he can’t. He’s on display for the entire universe. Everyone can see him now.

And isn’t that what he wanted? For everyone to know his name? To cheer for him?

Sendak’s words blur together. It’s all idiot nonsense, anyway. Sendak’s soldiers lining the edges of the stadium floor fidget, hands at their sides clenched into fists. He can feel their eyes on him. They’re waiting for something. Waiting for the say so from Sendak.

“Anyone who remembers Voltron knows of its power. The pure quintessence its paladins possess that allows them to tame the souls the lions hold.”

Lance watches as Sendak walks towards him, boots clicking along the metal stadium floor.

“But what is this?” Sendak says, metal claws gliding along Lance’s cheek, before hooking under his jaw and upturning his head so he can stare upon the crowd. “Is this a paladin of Voltron?”

In a moment, before he can even process what’s happening, Sendak’s heel presses between his shoulder blades, sending him face first to the floor with a resounding thud. His cheek presses against the metal. His head throbs. His vision blurs.

“This,” Sendak continues, voice cold, words careful. “This is no paladin. Is this who you want to defend you?”

Cheers echo through the arena. Lance knows they aren’t in favor of him.

“Allow me to make an example of your so-called saviors.”

Lance feels Sendak’s eyes on him before he feels his hands.

“I cannot wait to see what the Druids have done to you.” He hears Sendak hiss, and all at once the little clothing he was already wearing is ripped away.

Sendak’s flesh hand grips his ass, squeezes, letting his claws dig into the pert flesh. “I’ve seen changes in many species before, many like you made into pleasure slaves. But this? The Druids have made you _beautiful_.”

Whatever the Druids did do to him, he doesn’t want to know. All he can remember are gentle motions, light touches. Heat bubbling just beneath the surface, too hot, but not enough.

Two fingers slip inside of him with ease, curling and spreading. He arches, back bowing as his legs slide along the metal, and he can already feel drool sliding down his chin. Slick runs down his thighs, and he feels Sendak lean down, feels a warm tongue lick it away.

“Do you feel it?” Sendak asks, two more fingers slipping inside, his movements relentless. “Your pathetic little body couldn’t take me this easily before. But now I can fuck you however I please. I planned on killing you after this, but I think I’ll take you as my own. Let your fellow Paladins see what I have made of you.”

He tries not to moan, tries not to cant his hips back to feel more, to get Sendak’s fingers deeper. But whatever the Druids did to him, it’s making him desperate. Even with four of Sendak’s fingers pumping into him, it’s not enough. There’s barely a stretch where there should be, no resistance where there should be.

Sendak’s fingers pump him still, wet sounds accompanying each thrust.

“More?” Sendak says, barely a question, pulling his fingers free from Lance. He knows what Lance wants. What he’s been modified to crave.

Lance whimpers, emptiness unpleasant after he’s found out what it’s like to be full.

Lance waits, nails sliding against the floor, his cheek wet with drool. There are no touches, no words from Sendak, and for a moment he thinks maybe it’s finally over.

Then something much larger than four fingers is pressing into him, and he keens. His back arches, and more of the thick cock presses in. Lance tries to get away, grasping at the floor, but claws dig into his hips, and Sendak snaps forward till he’s filled Lance completely.

It’s numb at first. Lance knows Sendak has started to thrust, but everything feels _numb_. Pain rips up his spine with each movement forward, but even that begins to numb, slowly becoming a dull ache, till it’s close to pleasure.

“Do you feel it?” Sendak growls, only loud enough for him to hear. Soon he’s being hoisted up to sit in Sendak’s lap.

Lance sees the crows again, the blinding lights, the zooming droids recording his every move to broadcast to the entire universe.

He looks down, hoping to get some sort of relief, but he’s met with something just as nauseating.

For every thrust, a bulge in his stomach moves in time. Lance tries to look away, but Sendak grips his neck, forcing him to look down. To see the outline of his cock inside of him.

“You will _never_ be rid of me.”

* * *

 

Shiro watches Allura from behind, her shoulders stiff as she works, blue lights like shimmering stars surrounding her.

It all fades, replaced with an image on screen of an unnamed Galran commander. One that neither of them have seen before. Before Allura can speak, the commander does for her.

“Princess Allura.” The commander says, her voice booming through the control room. “I am happy to inform you the Galra have started a show in Voltron’s honor. Better yet, it stars your missing paladin.”

“What have you done with him?” Allura demands, and Shiro shivers at the sound of pure, unaltered rage residing beneath the surface of her tone.

The commander giggles like a child, yellow eyes crinkling happily at the corners. “Why explain it when you could watch the show yourself?”

The screen goes to black. Allura turns to look at Shiro. “A show?” She says. “Would it be a Gladiator fight?”

“They never showed those outside of the ring as far as I’m aware. It was…a special honor to attend.” He shrugs off the concerned look Allura gives him. “I have no idea what this means.”

Both get their answer with the screen lighting back up, showing rows and rows of cheering aliens, most Galra, but still plenty of them not.

“But what is this?”

They both recognize it. Sendak’s voice. It isn’t long before his image shows on screen.

“Is this a paladin of Voltron?”

Heavy silence fills the room as they watch Lance shoved to the ground by Sendak’s heel.

Shiro tries to reason with himself that it’s wrong. That what he’s seeing is wrong. But it’s obvious what Lance is wearing. He’d seen it on prisoners enough before to know what it is. Pleasure slave garb.

“We can’t watch this.” Shiro tries, gripping Allura’s shoulder.

“What if they kill him?” Allura snaps, wrenching away from his grasp. “We have to watch. We have to know. How else can we help him if we don’t know what happened?” She turns back to the screen, swallowing down bile. “He would never tell us.”

“Allura-“

“I don’t want to watch this. But it is my duty as your leader to protect you all if I can. Stand down, or get _out_.”

Shiro relents.

_“Allow me to make an example of your so-called saviors.”_


End file.
